A recent exhibit at the Worcester Art Museum offered a fascinating study of how artists see the world; in this case, artists who create flower arrangements. The “Flora in Winter” organizers assigned a particular painting or sculpture to each of the floral designers. Then, the florists sculpted a response to that art using flowers as their medium.
What was astonishing, besides the sheer creativity of each arrangement, was what dramatically differently turns the same task provoked. Some florists were quite literal in their approach: they basically copied the lines, the color and the composition of the painting. Other designers might have been inspired by the work of art, but there was very little in common between their arrangements and the source of inspiration. The best ones attempted a thoughtful and penetrating interpretation of the artwork. Those floral arrangers focused on the spirit of the piece, and the particular aspects of flow and color that made it beautiful. Their minds seemed to have “moved in” with the original artist, and then, almost like a lively conversation, they allowed that artist’s vision to “blossom” in fresh flowers.
While the exhibit is now over (and as we all know, flowers don’t survive for a very long time) I am still left with the lasting emotion of having seen beauty amplified, mirrored and focused. In the best arrangements, the flowers allowed me to see and appreciate more fully the beauty of the original sculpture or painting. Additionally, the floral arrangements were more lovely, standing as they were, in the company of great art. The company we keep says something important about who we are. Where we stand, and who stands next to us, makes a tremendous difference.
Rumi tells a wicked little story to illustrate this. He tells the tale of a man who become convinced that while he was away at work all day, his wife was having an affair. His suspicions grew intense, and finally he did something he had never done before: he came home in the middle of the day. He found the door to his house locked and bolted. He started pounding on the door and demanding entrance. Meanwhile, inside the house there was a great panic. His unfaithful wife, who had been enjoying the company of the plumber, realized with horror that there was no back door and no unbarred windows whereby her lover might escape. In desperation, she threw a full length, head to foot veil, the chardor, over the burly plumber. Because he was tall, his large hairy feet were clearly visible at the bottom. Attempting to compose herself, she opened the door and spoke to her husband, “What a surprise! I don’t believe you’ve ever come home at this time before.” And in pre-emptive strike she said, “Allow me to introduce you to ‘Mrs. Asssad’ (the plumber in the veil.) She has been visiting me in conversation about having her son marry our daughter. They are quite a wealthy family.”
The husband, playing along, asks, “If they are so materially fortunate, why would they want their son to marry our poor daughter?”
The wife answers, “She wants her son to marry our daughter because our daughter comes from a home of virtue and integrity and wholesomeness. She wants her son to marry into a family that values chastity and integrity and modesty.”
Meanwhile, as his wife prattles on about the importance of honesty and goodness, the husband just stares incredulously at the plumber’s large, hairy, masculine feet.
Which is when Rumi interrupts the story to say, “That is how God hears your prayers.” We might be saying all the right words (about gratitude, and asking for help, and being of service to those in need) but standing right next to us are our actual deeds: our impatience, our arrogance, our selfishness, and our distrust.
Ouch! The implications of Rumi’s story are rather startling. Not only are we not fooling God, but apparently we’re not even fooling anyone else. (Maybe occasionally we are fooling ourselves?) But no matter what we say to one another about our values and our aspirations, our deeds stand right by our side, either affirming or denying our story. What we do, how we treat others, and where we put our attention is more visible than we might suppose. Reality is not disguisable, no matter how many veils we may attempt to throw over our flaws and hypocrisy.
But there is another side to this story, and Rumi tells that one as well. He wrote: “You assume that you are only your grief and your failure and your anxiety.” But he says, “standing right beside you is God – and in truth, you are fair and beautiful and loved... Your outward form is wailing because of the darkness, but your spirit (inside of you) is like roses within roses.”
Side by side in this world we will encounter what is terrible and what is wonderful. Occasionally what is full of harmony and loveliness will be quite hidden. Sometime what is violent and wrong will be obvious. There are occasions when we may know that we are accompanied by grace. Through it all, may we remember that at this particular junction in time, we don’t necessarily know the whole story.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment